Changing Effie
by Ember Belli
Summary: Effie Trinket had always loved being alone, and work-driven. Many believe she cannot be counted on much. But will the love of Haymitch and a homless girl change her for good?
1. Effie Trinket

**I feel that my first attempt at this story was an epic fail. I've started writing in Effie's POV, and I like it much better. **

For as long as I can remember, ever since I was old enough to know my manners perfectly, I always had known that I would grow up independent. As much as I enjoyed being in the company of others, I always cherished the time I had to myself greatly. My parents were proud of me, and I knew this because of the constant praise I had received growing up. Whatever I did, no matter how challenging it was, I always made do, and received plenty of praise for it.

Even though I am now living alone in the Capitol, I know that they're still proud of me. Now, I love my parents very much, but I really don't miss living with them. I enjoy being on my own. Being able to enjoy my penthouse in silence is especially nice on a day like today, the day before the reaping. I knew that I would have to be leaving for the train station soon, but I had already packed, and had a few hours to myself.

I sat in my most favorite seat in all of the Capitol, on my soft pink sofa. I had been sipping tea for about forty-five minutes now. Before me, my pink television remote sat stagnant on the coffee table. I hardly watch television anymore. The most television I watch in one year is enough to satisfy my taste for the Hunger Games. As soon as the victors are crowned, my television set gets flicked off and remains that way for the year. I don't ever set my eyes on a screen until the following Hunger Games. Instead, I had found ways to entertain myself besides resting my eyes on a screen filled with nonsense. I enjoy things such as reading, purchasing new wigs and outfits, and walking the Capitol. That is, of course, when I'm not busy being the escort for District twelve.

Speaking of District twelve, I dread having to go back. The people there are so poor and food is very rare. I despise going there on account of the filth that could ruin my clothes. Also, on account that food is so rare, I always feel significantly bigger than anyone around me, even though

I'm not.

I was just getting to the bottom of my tea cup, when there was a knock at my door.

"Miss Trinket," called the voice of Portia.

I lowered my tea cup from my lips. "Yes, come in, dear," I called to her.

She stepped in, a tad of a worried look on her face. "Miss Trinket, I have been asked to inform you that the train will be leaving early today," she said.

I practically choked on my tea. "What?" I gasped. I always hated it when things ran off schedule. "How long do I have?" I asked her.

Portia glanced at the clock that hung above my television. "About an hour," she replied.

I froze for a moment. I had everything packed already, and I was already dressed. It was an exact twenty minute walk from my penthouse to the train station. I figured it would take me ten minutes to secure everything at home, and about two minutes for me to think of all this. This only meant on thing: I had to get my butt going!

"Alright, I'll be there," I told Portia. She left me to scurry around and prepare myself for the cross country train trip to District twelve.

Just as I had planned, I was on the train in about half-an hour. I settled in nicely. It took me a bit of time to organize my clothes into the dresser, but it was worth it, I'm sure. I then sat comfortably in a chair in the parlor, again, sipping tea. I watched the various terrain roll past the immense window I sat before at two-hundred miles an hour. It was all amazing. Before the day was out, the terrain had become lush, full of green trees and many lakes. It was much more handsome than the mountains that the Capitol was concealed within.

At around eight, I decided to shower myself, and prepare for bed. The warm water spilled down about my body, taking my makeup with it, creating swirls of pink and purple below my feet. The swirls danced for a few moments, before finally being sucked down the drain.

After my shower, I applied myself with my favorite pink night slip, and slipped between the covers of the soft bed. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, the reaping on my mind. Finally, I shut my heavy eyelids, laid my head back against the pillow, and a heavy slumber too heavy to bear took over my tired body.


	2. The Reaping

**I know this story is supposed to be serious, but I couldn't get Haymitch's part from my mind, so it's a little humerus. Oh, and when Haymitch calls her a "Pink wig" it's my own version of what my grandma calls a "big wig." **

I awoke the next morning with an unfamiliar warmth on my face. It hadn't been there long, and it started to bother me a bit, so I forced myself awake. It was strange, I felt much more tired than I had when I lay down. I thought sleep was supposed to refresh you, not make you feel worse. But, my sleep had indeed made me feel worse, for when I awoke, my eyes were sore, as if I had had them focused on one small thing all night. I discovered that the warmth on my face had been coming from a fresh sun ray that poured through a window. I relinquished the urge I had to return to sleep, and slid out of bed. I got a chill when my bare feet set themselves against the cold hardwood floor. If I was back in the Capitol, many of my friends would question why my feet were bare. The most asinine answer I could come up with: I simply do not lie socks. I do not like the tight feel of fabric around my ankles. I prefer stockings, nonetheless, and one simply cannot sleep in stockings.

As I stood up, I stretched my arms outward, and yawned. I felt too warm as well, so it was best that I shower immediately. It would be embarrassing for someone to find out that I, Effie Trinket, sweats easier than a man does. Mother had always said that sweating was a natural function, but I had always thought different. Not with the way I sweat. So, a cool shower sounded nice at the moment. I showered and made sure that every inch of my body was scrubbed and washed thoroughly. Afterwards, I made my way to my dresser. It was reaping day. And I decided that the people would feel better about it if they saw how happy I am about it. So, I chose my bright pink dress as my attire for the tribute selection. It is to be accompanied with pink shoes and a pink hair flower. How wonderful I was to look!

I applied my clothes, followed by my wig. I also made sure that I applied an even coat of makeup to my face. After all, it was a big, big, big, BIG day, and I wanted to sport the Capitol style as much as I possibly could.

By the time I was ready, I had enough time for a quick cup of tea before I would be escorted to the stage. I finished it serenely before Portia came to fetch me from the dinning car.

"Miss Trinket, it is time for me to accompany you to the stage. They would like you present before the tributes start arriving," she informed me.

Quickly, I swallowed my last bit of tea. "Alright, then, I'm ready," I replied, beaming at her.

As I followed Portia from the train, I could tell that she wasn't anymore excited about the reaping than I was. Truth be told, I despised the reaping as much as any respectable Capitol woman could despise an event. But, on the other hand, I am very fond of the Hunger Games. I am enthralled by the attention that comes with them. People always surround me at the dinners, at the balls, and the meetings, always anxious to question me on my current tributes. Up till now, none of my tributes had survived the first day of the games. Would that change this year?

I really didn't think so.

I was ushered onto the stage, where I took my seat next to Mayor Underseer. We said a quick hello to one another, as the youngest tributes began pouring in. As the area surrounding the stage became full, Mayor Underseer stepped up to the podium, and began his yearly speech. While he was away chit-chatting about the history of Panem and the Hunger Games, I couldn't help myself but glare at the bowl of names. It was the same old glass bowl, polished to the most shiny it could be, filled with the same pieces of folded paper.

Suddenly, as Mayor Underseer was getting to the informative part of his speech, I heard footsteps from the right of the stage. In stumbled Haymitch Abernathy, one of the former victors from years ago. I could tell by the way he stumbled that he was drunk, very drunk, at that, as he always was. He crossed the stage, and took a seat next to me. I tried hard to focus on the speech, but Haymitch had other things on his mind.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't pink-wig Effie Trinket," he whispered.

I arched a brow in his direction. The absence of manners from this man is indespicable! He's rude, and smells awfully of liquor. It makes me glad that it's almost time for me to go up and draw names.

Suddenly, the next thing I know, Haymitch is trying to wrap his arms around me in an embrace. Hoping no one is paying enough attention to notice, I scoot to the right-most edge of my chair. But still, this man still manages to forcibly put his hands on me. I try to fend it off, with hardly any success. I sit there uncomfortably, until Mayor Underseer calls my name to come up.

I do so in a jiffy. Even though I'm standing in front of mostly children, I try to be as smooth as I can manage. I wanted these people to see what a real Capitol demeanor looks like. I look out upon the sea of children before me. All I can't think is how much I really have never gotten to know a child, so it's hard to put forth some sympathy for them. I flutter my lashes lovingly, and beam my smile at them.

"Welcome, welcome," I greet them happily. "The time had come to select one courageous young man, and woman, for the honor of representing District twelve in the seventy-forth annual Hunger Games," I say happily. The people stare at me as if they had never seen someone from the Capitol before. I swear to be the most zealous person present.

I sigh a sigh of relief that there was no back-talk or anything of that sort. These aren't my rules, so the people cannot become angry at me if I was to draw their child's name. "Ladies first," I say.

I quickly scuttle to the bowl of names. I slowly reach my hand in, and gracefully withdraw a piece of paper. As I always have, I keep it remain folded until I reach the podium once more. Before I proceed and open it, I can see the children's faces become downcast and frightened. The adults are staring at me, as if they want me to hurry up and read the name so they can be happy that it's not their children.

I open the paper, and read clearly the name.

"Primrose Everdeen," I read aloud. Everything falls silent, as if I had forced a curse upon them. I wait patiently as no one appears. I smile, and grasp the bottom of the microphone. "Primrose Everdeen," I repeat. "Please come forward."

I squint my eyes as a group of the youngest children began dispersing, and a small girl makes her way aimlessly towards the stage. She's just about to mount the bottom step, when another voice rings out.

"Prim!" shouts the voice. A girl with dark hair comes tearing out from the group, just to be ceased by Capitol guards. I stare at her, my smile never leaving my face, even though my mouth is sore. "Wait! wait!" calls the girl. "I volunteer," says the girl. "I volunteer as tribute!"

I stand, amazed by what I have just heard. A volunteer hasn't presented themselves in years. Oh, good. A change!

"Alright then," I say. "Release her."

The guards release the girl, and I scuttle down to usher her to the podium. A guard grabs Primrose and begins to carry her away, with the girl screaming as loud as she can manage. I grab the dark haired girl by her arm, and drag her before the microphone.

"What's your name?" I ask.

The girl looks stunned. I can tell that she's much older than Primrose. She swipes a piece of hair from her forehead. "Katniss. Katniss Everdeen," she said.

Like the bubbly woman I am, I clap my hands happily. "I bet my buttons that was your sister, wasn't it?" I ask.

Katniss looks outwards, past the audience. "Yes."

I nod approvingly. "Now, for the boys," I say, crossing the stage.

Again, I wait to read the name until I'm once again before the microphone. "Peeta Mellark," I read aloud.

After I said that, so many young boys sigh a sigh of relief, before they step out of the way of a boy, about sixteen. He has spiky blond hair, almost the color of my natural hair. He has big green eyes. He quickly and quietly takes his place beside Katniss and I.

"Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes of district twelve."

The audience begins to applaud as we are ushered from the stage. I take pride in the applause, for it tell me that I have yet again survived another reaping day.


	3. Troubled Souls

**The idea for this chapter came to me in a dream**

It took me a while to get used to a pair of teenagers. Normally, the odds would be in my favor, and I'd only have one teenager to look after, rather than two. It wasn't until the next evening that I really was used to them. I liked Katniss and Peeta, don't get me wrong, but they were just like any other children. They were young, and misunderstood the proper ways to act. No wonder I enjoy the company of adults, they actually know how to behave.

I like Peeta. He has manners, and he knows how to use them properly. But that Katniss, she's something else. Her manners are horrible. And she has a bad attitude towards Haymitch. Once, in the dinning car, we were all nourishing ourselves. Peeta and Haymitch were discussing how to stay alive in the arena, and I sat in a chair, my feet up on an Ottoman because I was so worn from the reaping. Katniss soon strode in, and began fiercely questioning Haymitch about how to fin shelter.

He sighed. "Sweetheart, can you pass the marmalade?" he asked.

Suddenly, Katniss thrust a knife hardly into the table surface, right between Haymitch's fingers.

"Hey!" I shouted. "That is mahogany!" I screeched.

Katniss glared at me from the table, and forcibly ripped the blade from the smooth mahogany, never taking her eyes off me. She looked bewildered, and it rather frightened me. I didn't want to irritate her more, so preventing the fact that she probably wanted to use that knife on me right now, I sat back, and continued to sip my tea. Katniss sat up from her place at the table, and angrily walked back toward the car where her room was. As she approached the automatic door, it opened for her. She pivoted on her heel, and raised her hand with the knife in it.

Suddenly, she flung the knife in my direction. Before I had time to dodge it, I dropped my hot tea in my lap and let out a shriek. The knife stuck itself into the wall, and sat there throbbing as Katniss exited the room. I sat, awed, and in pain from the hot coffee seeping through my stockings. Haymitch left his seat at the table, and pulled the knife from the wall. By this time, I was sure that my legs were blistered and that I was about to cry.

"You alright, Princess?" Haymitch asked me.

I bit my lower lip. "Do I look alright?" I asked, increasing my volume. "My legs are on fire!" I hissed.

Slowly, I peeled my wet legs from the chair, and stood up. I then began to waddle painfully towards the door. Haymitch broke out into a hysterical laugh.

"She waddles like a penguin," Haymitch observed.

Even though my back was turned, I could tell that Peeta was suppressing a laugh. At least he hid it from me, instead of being rude like some people. Unfortunately, I had to pass Katniss's room to make it to my own. She was standing in the doorway of her suite, giggling at me.

"Hey, Effie," she teased.

"Katniss," I greeted, bitting my bottom lip.

As I unlocked the door to my rooms, I heard Katniss laughing from inside her room. I made my way to the shower, and immediately peeled my clothes from my body. I stood in the cool shower, just letting the cool water run down my legs, which were now beat red because of the trauma the hot coffee caused them. When I was finished, I ran my fingers gently down my thighs, caressing the skin. I knew they'd be sore, so I did something unexpected. I slid myself into a flannel pink dress and slippers. I still applied my wig, for I didn't want anyone to walk in and see my natural hair, even if I was confining myself to my room for the rest of the night.

I sat up, reading, as I often did. I had just started a nice book on the history of wigs in Panem. It was very interesting. Who knew that wigs could be styled in so many ways? Most people are indifferent of wigs, because, well, they enjoy dying their hair strange colors. But not me. I do enjoy my natural color once in a great while. But I am too far embarrassed to be seen in public without my wig.

Later that evening, around eight o'clock, I heard screaming coming from another room. Quickly, I flung my book to the opposite side of the bed, and bolted for the hallway. Why, the screaming was coming from Katniss's room.

I burst in, to find Haymitch standing at the end of her bed, in his undergarments. Katniss was tucked against the headboard, hiding half-way under the quilts. I could tell from the stench that Haymitch was drunk and had no clue that he was stalking Katniss. Quickly, I grabbed Haymitch by the shoulders, and ushered him out into the dinning car, leaving Katniss dumbfounded. I could tell that clearly she had never seen a man in his undergarments, and, truth be told, neither have I.

I thrust Haymitch into a chair. I can't stand the look he's giving me, so, I slap it off of him.

"Whoa, whoa, hey! he shouts. He then shakes his head. "Easy there, princess. What do you think you're doing?" he asks in dismay.

I place my hands on my hips. "Mr. Abernathy, have you any idea that you were in Katniss's room?" I ask impatiently.

Haymitch looked surprised. "I what?" he asked. "Wait. You're telling me that I was in Katniss's room. In these?" he asks, pointing to his undergarments.

I begin stomping my foot impatiently. "Yes, Mr. Abernathy, I am."

He lets out a laugh. "Well, I'll be damned! I guess I was hittin' the bottle a little too hard," he says happily.

I make a _humph_ noise through my noise, and head for the door.

"Hey, princess, where ya goin'?" he asked, waving a bottle in the air. "I wanted to share the last tad with ya," he informs me.

"Humph! Goodnight, Mr. Abernathy," I said, storming from the room.


	4. Capitol Scare

**4 reviews! Wow! Thanks guys! This chapter may come off a little strange. **

Before I even knew it, by the next morning, we were pulling into the train station at the Capitol. I had been the only one awake at the time, and I rushed to get ready to accompany the tributes to the district building. By the time I was done, and striding out of my room towards the sitting room, I found Katniss, Peeta, and Haymitch, all prepared to leave. Personally, I was glad that I didn't have to wait for them because I was anxious to return home to my Capitol. I was tired of having to look out a window and having to see a moving scenery. Here, the only thing that moved was the lovely Capitol citizens.

"Good morning, everyone," I greeted.

"Morning, Effie," greeted Peeta happily.

Haymitch said nothing. Katniss stood at one of the windows, hands on the glass, gazing out like a small child. She didn't take any notice to me. Personally, I didn't care. I began stroding towards the exit.

"Come on, everyone," I said happily. "Let's go collect our accommodations."

We all left the train station. I felt out of place, for everyone else was having their luggage taken to the district building for them, and I had my rolling suitcase at my side. I knew that Katniss and Peeta would be sent to meet their stylist, Haymitch would sit in the suit and drink, and I had intentions of running home to swap the clothes in my suitcase.

I led them straight to the district building. I noticed Peeta taking in every inch of the Capitol like it was fine wine. Katniss didn't say anything. She kept her gaze forward, and followed obediently, as if she were a dog. Haymitch looked tired, but still, he followed along.

We entered the building, to find the lobby empty, except for a secretary with lavender hair. I signaled the trio to take seats on the waiting sofas, and I approached the front desk.

"Can I help you?" asked the girl with the lavender hair. She had a very pretty, young face, with big orange eyes.

"Yes, thank you. Please inform Cinna that the tributes of district twelve have arrived for their transformations," I said proudly.

When I said "transformations" I saw Katniss quirk a brow. It then hit me that she had never been transformed by Capitol stylists. I had often and knew how gorgeous the result would be on her. What numbskulls children from the districts are! Not being able to know the simple pleasure of cleanliness and pleasing clothes. I pity them, I really do.

The next thing I knew, Katniss and Peeta were swept away by the stylists and Haymitch and I decided to head upstairs to floor twelve to unpack. The rooms had not changed a bit last year. It was a little cleaner than last time, but otherwise, everything was exactly as I had left it last year. Sometimes I believe that I live in the district building and my penthouse is only my vacation home. I love my job, don't get me wrong, but being the escort to the poorest of the districts is sometimes harder than it looks.

I had to do my yearly dusting to my usual room. By the time I was done, the room seemed to glow with a lavish air, even though the furnishings were a little outmoded. I soon began unpacking my clean clothes, separating them from the ones I had wore on the train trip.

I never realized for one second that Haymitch was standing in my doorway, a bottle of liquor clenched in his hand.

"What you up to, Princess?" he asked.

I folded a sweater of mine, and replied: "What's it look like?" I asked. I really wasn't in the mood to be bothered. I could mess up folding something. I wanted him to go away so I cold finish getting ready.

He moved to my side. "Need some help, princess?" he asked, belching out loud. He dug a hand into my suitcase, and pulled out a piece of white fabric.

Such was my bloomers!

Quickly, I snatched them from his grip. "Mr. Abernathy," I hissed. "How dare you!"

He snorted, and sipped his bottle. "Sorry, princess. I never realized that you were ashamed of your undergarments."

I balled up my bloomers, and tossed them angrily back into my suitcase. "Well, I would think that _any_ precipitable person would like to keep their personal business such as their undergarments sworn in secrecy," I snapped. "You are a sick, vile man. I can't belive that President Snow would allow a man such as you within five-hundred feet near any child, let alone_ my_ tributes."

He snorted again. How disgusting! "_Your_ tributes?" he asked. He quickly downed the rest of his bottle, and tossed it over his shoulder, and into the hallway. "Excuse me, princess., but they're _my_ tributes too," he said. "And besides, these kids need me. Without my arena expertise, you, princess, don't have any chance at a victory," he said snootily. He inched on me until I pressed against the wall. Now, I was beginning to feel uncomfortable.

"Mr. Abernathy," I hissed. "Don't come any closer."

Still, he advanced on me. Was I about to be harmed? He grabbed one of my wrists, and held me there.

"Let go," I hissed.

No go with this man! Truth be told, I was becoming afraid. Should I scream? Should I try to wriggle free?

He got so close that I could practically taste the liquor on his breath. Now I was trembling. I was afraid of some men, not Haymitch, usually, but now, I feared for my life. I felt the sweat pour from my head, and drip down my back in heavy drops. He eyed me for a moment, then, quickly released his grip on me, and ran from the room.

Without realizing what I was doing, I dropped to my knees, pressed a fist to my chest, and tried to keep myself from having a heart attack.


	5. Figures and Flashes

When I had enough time to clam myself down, I made sure that Haymitch was far away enough from the lobby so I could pick up Katniss and Peeta. I had to straighten myself back up, so the children couldn't tell that I had been crying. I felt embarrassed. I am Effie Trinket, escort of District twelve, and I had given into my fear and cried for once. It couldn't be known. If it was to ever get out, my reputation would be hurt.

I stood in the lobby, hands folded across my knees. Why was Cinna taking so long? He usually was a quick worker. I had a huge feeling that Katniss was causing him grief. I had no doubt about that. What a girl she was! So ignorant and rude that it makes my wig curl.

I was lost in my mind, glancing at an intriguing painting on the wall. I had gotten lost within all of the colors, when a door opened somewhere, and closed loudly. I whirled around to find Haymitch.

"What are you doing, princess?" he asked.

Even though I was over and done crying, my hands began to tremble. I moved them behind my back so he wouldn't see the obvious sign that I was a tad afraid of him. Still, I stood my ground. I would not let this man know my fear of him!

"Waiting for _my_ tributes," I replied.

Haymitch snorted and tossed his head. God! How I hated the way he snorted at people. It's rude and inconsiderate! Why, if my mother had ever met this man, she'd sure have her bloomers in a knot over his childish antics. Not to mention his drinking problem, as well.

"Whatever, princess," he said, making his way down the hall. I absolutely despised the way Haymitch walked. He walked as if he owned the entire Capitol, head high, shoulders up, nose in the air. He waked in the same fashion President Snow did.

"Effie," said a voice.

I looked. There stood Cinna, standing next to two well groomed children. Katniss and Peeta. Never before had I seen tributes of mine look so dashing. They were clean all the way down to under their fingernails. Peeta stood before me in a white silk shirt, and black dress pants, while Katniss wore a pink blouse and a white lace skirt.

I beamed at them. "Wonderful," I complimented Cinna on a job-well-done. "Thank you, Cinna."

He smiled. "You're welcome, Effie. May the odds be in your favor this year," he said, bowing his head, and leaving the room.

"Thank you," I called politely after him.

Katniss and Peeta started at me awkwardly. I could tell that being alone with me without Haymitch at their side was an awkward state for them. But they'd have to get used to it, for I figured after that fight we'd had Haymitch would avoid us. Truth be told, I didn't want him to avoid us because I'm not very good when it comes to children, even if they are sixteen. I motioned them to follow me. I led them down the main hallway to the elevator, and we rode it to floor twelve. Something that got me was the elevator music. It was a song I had heard often on the Capitol station on the television. It was rather catchy, and indeed one of my favorites.

Once to the suit, I opened the doors for the both of them as they stepped in and stared at the rooms in admiration. I strode in behind them.

"Look at this place. It's bigger than the Seam," said Peeta happily.

Katniss scoffed happily. "Well, I don't think it's _that_ big. It's nice, I will give it that," she replied.

I smiled and watched joyfully as Katniss and Peeta made themselves at home. I was lucky Haymitch came back for dinner, for I was planning on a quick run to my house to grab some clean clothes. I finished my plate as quickly as my manners would allow me, for I was wasting what sunlight I had to walk home in.

I left quickly after dinner, for I wanted to get away from Haymitch for as long as I possibly could.

My penthouse looked the same. Nothing had been altered. It was exactly the same as they way I had left it. The only thing that possibly could have changed it was Portia, and she was traveling with me. As much as my own home tempted me to stay, I grabbed as many clean dresses that I had at the time, and I threw them into my suitcase.

It was dark on my way back to the district building. There was no one on the streets, not one soul. It seemed odd, for the streets were always filled. Why should tonight be any different?

I had the strangest feeling in my stomach. Something wasn't right. Something was utterly amiss. Whatever this feeling was, it told me to get off the streets, and fast. So, after scanning my surroundings, I found an alleyway that I could see the district building on the other side. It was long though, and very dark. It wove between two buildings that had not one light on inside. Where was everyone tonight? It seemed as if the Capitol was completely empty.

As I began walking down the alleyway, I swore I heard a strange noise. I had taken only four steps towards the darkness, and I halted myself. Why, the noise stopped. I shook my head. What is wrong with me tonight? I supposed nothing as I grew nearer and nearer to the district building.

I was nearly there, when I heard it.

The sound of breathing at my back.

I froze again, and tensed my body. The sound of heavy footsteps filled the air. I couldn't believe this. And then it hit me. It was Haymitch! Why, Haymitch must've have followed me. He was just trying to scare me, I knew it!

I sighed, and turned around, beaming my perfectly white teeth in his direction. That's when I knew that I was very, very wrong. It wasn;t Hyamitch at all. It was a figure twice his size. And it was approaching me!

I didn't know what to do. Do I run? Do I scream? Certainly I shouldn't just stand her and let this figure get their hands on me. Slowly, I began to step backwards, inch-by-inch, heel-by-heel. Was this person going to hurt me?

_No, no that's silly, Effie! Why would anyone want to hurt you_, my mind protested. But I knew my mind was wrong.

The figure managed to corner me against a building. As it approached me, I could see the blurred outline of some sort of mask covering their face. I pressed backwards against the wall as much as I could and braced myself. The figure was now standing over me, I could feel their hot breath on my cold face. They slowly began reaching and hand up to touch my face. I closed my eyes tightly, and turned the side of my face to them, when I heard a small noise coming from behind the figure.

I reopened my eyes, just in time to see a white flash fly through the end of the alley, coming full speed at the figure and I. What was this?

The white flash appeared behind the figure. It grabbed them from behind, and tossed them across the alley with great force. The sound of metal clanging filled the air as the figure landed in a pile of trash cans. Immediately, as if it was my body's way of relieving itself, my ankles turned to pudding, and I fell on my butt onto the cold pavement. I clung to the wall behind me for support.

Footsteps filled the air as the figure flew passed me and exited the alley. The white flash slowly approached me. It was too dark to see who it was. But, I heard slow, shallow breaths coming from them.

They leaned over me, and I found myself staring into the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen. It was strange, for the eyes were all I could see on the person. The eyes moved left, then right, then, in one swift move, the flash took a speed I've never seen before, and took off into the street.

**I wanted this chapter to be so much better! Damn this writers block! Excuse my language but I did rate this 'T'. The next chapter will explain alot more, I promise. **


	6. Questioning

**Random A/N: I've noticed that listening to Panic! At The Disco when writing Hayffie can be very very helpful. **

Even though the incident with the figure and the green-eyed person had left me in a bit of a frightened mood, I returned to the district building, acting as if nothing had happened. In the elevator, I thought of all the possibilities of who the green-eyed person could have been. As I ascended up towards the twelfth floor, I assessed all of the people I knew with green eyes. By the time the elevator doors open I had found my answer.

I knew absolutely no one with green eyes.

It was a shame, for I felt that I owed the person a thank you. But how could I possibly thank them when I didn't even know who they were? I couldn't, it was simple as that.

As I entered the rooms, I found Haymitch sitting upright in a chair, liquor in his hand. "Where you been, princess?" he asked as I began crossing the living room toward the back hallway.

I stopped and looked at him tiredly. "I ran into one of my old friends from high school," I replied in a low voice, for it was later than I had expected and I was sure that Katniss and Peeta were asleep. "I was talking to her about the games, that's why

I'm so late," I lied. I stood there for a moment, and studied his eyes.

Nope. His eyes were blue, not green. I sighed, and headed to my room. In the shower, I did a full-body inspection of myself. Everything looked the same, except for a few minor bruises on the back of my thighs. Those must've happened when I slid onto my bottom when the white flash had saved me.

I began thinking as I washed myself. What if the white flash was a stranger? It couldn't be, for I knew almost everyone in the Capitol, and no one had eyes that green. It was true that I knew some ladies with green eyes, but the dull green sort, not the vibrant green the flash had.

As the next few day's flew by, I constantly found myself looking everyone I passed in the eyes. No one in the Capitol had eyes like that. It truthfully was starting to bother me a bit.

On the following Wednesday, it was the day of Katniss and Peeta's training, and the following day was their interviews with Caesar Flickerman. While Haymitch was off playing hero at the training facility with them, I sat back, and sipped tea. For some odd reason, the Capitol held the training on television, so I could fulfill the very small craving I had to involve myself in the training process. I didn't feel bad one bit for sitting while Katniss and Peeta worked up a good sweat. Did they know how much it hurts to walk around in high heels all day? I highly doubted that.

As the day passed, I found myself drifting away. It was as if I was slipping away into an infantile world of puffy pink clouds and all my favorite shoes half-price. I saw myself dashing happily down the streets in the Capitol. I was Effie Trinket, the most beautiful woman to roam the Capitol of Panem.

"Effie!" hissed a loud voice, forcing me to open my eyes. I found myself eye-to-eye with Peeta, who held strongly onto my shoulders. I wriggled myself free from him, and I sat up. A quick glance out the window told me that it was later than I had expected it to be. Had I slept off schedule? No, this couldn't possibly be! I took notice that Haymitch was dressed in a clean blue shirt and a nice pair of khaki pants. His hair had been slicked back. "You may want to get ready," he said lowly, with a friendly tone to his voice. "Dinner's in an hour," he informed me.

I nodded, and quickly collected my wits. "Thank you, Peeta, for informing me," I thanked him.

He nodded. "You're welcome," he replied.

What a nice boy he was! And so polite! Never had one of my tributes warned me that dinner was approaching when I had drifted off. That is what made Peeta special. I actually began to feel sorry for the boy, for I knew that he hardly stood a chance in the arena. He had won a very small, special place in my heart. Now, Katniss, that's a whole different story.

I decided on a lavender colored dress, with matching shoes, and a bow of dark purple. For once in the longest time, I changed the way I applied my makeup. Instead of caking it on, I went about it with small, refined strokes, making sure the powder made my skin look as flawless and smooth as the powder itself. How Cinna would be proud of me. He had always told me that slow makeup is good makeup. I had just finished accenting my face with a small purple gem I stuck to my cheek under my left eye, when the clock told me that dinner was about to be served. I had lost myself in my own resplendence that I had almost forgotten what exactly I was preparing myself for.

I took my seat next to Peeta tonight. I knew that he had excellent table manners, and he wouldn't do anything that would upset my digestion. I hoped for sure that Katniss would go off-hand and show off her talent for witticism. Which, by the end of dinner, I could tell that training had exhausted her, and that she hadn't even thought of a plan to bug me.

"Katniss," said Haymitch. "You showed excellent skill in archery today," he observed. "How did you come by such skill?" he asked skeptically.

Katniss and Peeta eyed each other oddly.

"I guess I inherited it from my father," Katniss said, glaring at me as she did, as if I was the one had asked her the question. It took me a monet to realize the clue screaming itself dead right before me.

Katniss had green eyes.


End file.
